Poco Fedele
by M00
Summary: "Yeah, we're aquainted. What do you want with Nonna?" Race's story. (*dramatic music*) Review b/c you love me. Or pretend you do and review anyway.
1. Default Chapter

So I sit and wait and wonder,  
  
Does anyone else feel like me  
  
Someone so tired of their routines  
  
And disappearing self esteems  
  
I'll sing along with every emergency  
  
Just sing along "I'm the king of catastrophes"  
  
I'm so far gone that deep down inside I think  
  
It's fine by me, I'm my own worst enemy --Less than Jake (The Science of Selling Yourself Short)  
  
A/N: I spent the day listening to Less than Jake and reading Racetrack fics, so I guess this is their brainchild. Please excuse my insanity. ^_^ "Poco Fedele" means "Little Faithful" in Italian.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but well, duh.  
  
The papers rustled beneath my hands as I scanned the smudgy, gray letters for the word 'Washington'. No such luck. Abandoning this pursuit, I returned to the previous page where the headline droned "Election contestants neck-and-neck for the second week running". I jumped off the steps leading up to the distribution office, narrowly avoiding Boots, who seemed determined to take up the whole bottom step. "Scram, ya bum" I joked casually, earning a grin from him. "Yeah, yeah, get outta here, Racetrack." Pushing my cigar to the corner of my mouth, I wandered into the street bellowing "New development in Election! Importan' changes!"  
  
The regular morning routine. I spend most of the day alone, if you can call being pushed around by people in the streets alone. What I mean by alone is that I don't sell with anyone. I think it increases the money I make. The less Newsies there are to buy from, the more money each individual Newsie gets. Plain, simple logic. It's not a lonely life; it's all kind of boring and sluggish. You know the type. Like nothing ever happens unless you've got enough time to do something about it. But once that last paper disappears from my hands, I'm gone. Off to the Sheepshead where one move can make or break your stream of luck.  
  
Glancing up and down the crowded street, I noticed a man waving his hand at me, jogging across the street. I didn't recognize his face, so I waited impatiently on the curb for the dough to come rolling in. Instead of holding out his hand for the paper, he kinda stooped down, looking all curious, like. "Anthony Higgins?" he asked, squinting. He sounded out of breath.  
  
Wondering what an upper class priss like him wanted with me, and hell, how he knew my name, I pulled the cigar from between my teeth and gave him my most intimidating stare. "Yeah?"  
  
"Thank God. Look, kid, it's about Maria Tortella. I understand you two have become acquainted over the years?"  
  
"Yeah, we're acquainted. What do you want with Nonna?" I asked, my scowl darkening. I put my cigar back between my teeth; I looked even more intimidating with it like that.  
  
'She's not been doing so well and she's asking for you; one of her neighbors pointed you out to me and I've been chasing you for the past three blocks." He said all this real fast, like he couldn't wait to get it out.  
  
My heart stopped. It was common knowledge that Nonna was old, and she was always telling me that her health was bad, but I hadn't expected this. Turning on my heel, I started towards the all-to-familiar apartment building. "How d' you know Nonna?" I called over my shoulder to the man, squeezing between a trolley car and a pretzel vender.  
  
I must have been running too fast for him, he was breathing hard behind me and seemed to be in no position to answer. Raising my eyes to the heavens, I sent up a little prayer to the saints to keep Nonna safe.  
  
A/N: Dun dun dun!! Three cheers for the cliffhanger! (Yay! Yay! Yay!) Stay tuned for more Race, more upper class priss, some new characters, and whatever else my slightly-insane-but-not-outwardly-harmful mind dreams up. That reminds me, I was going to paint my nails. *Rolls her eyes* You know the drill; review while I'm gone. 


	2. Back home

A/N: Onward, to more Racetrack! Oh and I was reading the last chappie and I realized that instead of writing grandmother (Nonna) I wrote nine (Nona). Uh.oops. I fixed it though. *Hangs head* My own grandmother's probably rolling around in her grave.  
  
Disclaimer: I own the pretty nail polish, but other than that, nothing.  
  
~*~  
  
The soles of my boots pounded on the unsteady wooden stairs leading up to the apartments, my heart mirroring their actions. I knew my way around this building the way I knew my way around a poker game. I could walk the halls in the dead of night, blindfolded, and end up wherever I wanted to go. And that just wasn't my overconfident, moments-before-a-game assurances talking.  
  
Not stopping to knock, I threw my shoulder against the door of number sixteen, and ran inside. "Nonna!" I called, panic coursing through me. I was met by a girl, about my age, who looked scandalized. "Shhhhhhhhhh!" she commanded, "She's sleeping! Do you want to wake her up now?" Her expression shifted. "Who are you, anyway?" she asked, her furious scowl faltering slightly.  
  
Her words washed over me like water off a duck's back. I couldn't go without answering, so I said hastily, "Racetrack.Nonna? Where is she?" extending my hand to the coat rack and giving my hat to the girl.  
  
She raised an eyebrow skeptically. It didn't matter. I nodded to her, and squeezed past to what I knew was Nonna's room.  
  
"Wait just a minute!" came a shrill voice from behind me. "You can't go in there, I don't even know who you are!"  
  
I spun around on my heel, aggravated, and was shocked by what met my eyes. The man from the street burst suddenly through the door, panting. The girl was wielding a broom, looking terrified of me but steadily determined. Confused and panicked, I said loudly, "Where's Nonna?" earning a scowl from the girl and a gasp of breath from the man.  
  
"Room on.right.Anthony.Higgins.Water..." he managed, before collapsing into a chair.  
  
The girl seemed to understand. "Wait here Joseph, I'll be right back, um.Anthony, it's you? We've been waiting. Come, she's been asking for you." And with this she led the was to Nonna's room.  
  
Damn slow people.  
  
Nonna was lying on her bed with her eyes closed. The floorboards creaked when the girl walked on them and I didn't bother to tell her that they would. It never fails. Sure as a full house, Nonna opened her eyes and smiled when she saw me. "Anthony" she said happily in here creaky voice, tilted with accent and broken English.  
  
"Heya, Nonna, how you been?" I asked quietly, walking over to her bed and kissing her cheek.  
  
She looked mournfully up at me. "Ima no good, Anthony, Ima all worn out." She sighed. "No time to make food, you hungry?" Nonna looked up at me hopefully.  
  
Though I usually gave in, today was different. "No Nonna, I'm fine. Really I am," I added when her face fell. "You've gotta get some rest, you hear?" She looked over my shoulder. For a second I thought she was delirious, seeing things, like. But then she said, "If you are hungry, Minna could make you something, eh?"  
  
Wondering if Minna was a delusion, I said 'Sure, Nonna, sure" at the same time another voice said "Oh.right.of course."  
  
I turned my head and realized the girl from before was standing in the doorway, looking timid and cautious, but at the same time, annoyed. Looking back at Nonna, I asked, "What happened, Nonna? You gonna be all right?"  
  
She took my hand in her shaking one. "I'll be fine, Anthony, don't you worry, no. No worry." She smiled at me through the wrinkles on her face and I couldn't help but smile back. Someone cleared their throat. I turned around, and found that the girl was now leaning against the window frame. Frowning at her, I asked, "What, are the curtains in the wash?"  
  
Nonna let out a small laugh, but quickly pressed her lips together. "Have you two.introduced?"  
  
"Nah" I said, squeezing Nonna's hand. She smiled.  
  
"Well, dear, this is Anthony-"  
  
"Racetrack" I interrupted, frowning at the girl. Nonna was the only person alive allowed to call me by my real name. Minna looked at me like I was crazy, then frowned right back.  
  
Nonna looked at me, and then said, "Also known as Racetrack. And Anthony, this is Minna-"  
  
"Matilda" she interrupted, pressing her lips together. Who the hell took Matilda and turned it into Minna?  
  
"Or.Matilda" said Nonna, looking between the two of us. "Minna, dear, how is Joseph?"  
  
She sighed and answered, "He'll be okay, he was just tired from chasing him." She nodded at me.  
  
I rolled my eyes and looked at Nonna, who said, "Have him tell Mr. Jenkins Ima fine, doing Ok. Gave him quite a scare," she said, looking at me.  
  
'Matilda' didn't look as though she wanted to leave; she kept glancing at Nonna worriedly. But when she caught my eye, she wrinkled her nose and left.  
  
I turned back to Nonna and pulled a chair up to her bedside. She stopped smiling the second I met her eyes. "What?" I demanded, in a voice louder than what it should have been. "What?" I asked again, quieter.  
  
She shook her white-haired head and patted the seat of a chair by her bedside. "Sit."  
  
"How have you been, Anthony?" she asked.  
  
"I've been fine, look, Nonna, what's wrong? You gonna be okay?"  
  
"Oh, Anthony, I'm old, no good. It was bound to happen, the doctor, he said my heart went out. He says I should be okay, here for you." She smiled at me as though it was all fine. "You have papers to sell, no? How about before you go you get something to eat?"  
  
I grinned. Nonna never failed to offer anyone food. "Look, Nonna, I'm gonna stay here with you for a while, all right? I'll come back tomorrow, too. You need to get better."  
  
The door opened, and the man from the street poked his head in. "Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Tortella?" he asked, trying to seem as though he'd just arrived.  
  
Nonna smiled at him and answered "No, no Joseph, you rest, Ima fine." He left, and I turned to her. "Who's that, Nonna?"  
  
"Joseph Jenkins, Mr. Jenkins' son. You remember the Jenkins, don't you Anthony?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, that's his son? How'd he get so.rich?"  
  
Nonna laughed, but it quickly turned into a cough. I took a glass of water on her bedside table and raised it to her lips. After a moment, she smiled shakily at me and said "He joined a business after school, some new court business, you know." I stared. She sighed. "Well, I don't know what he does, business, you know, different in the New World. He did very well, Mr. Jenkins talks about his son all the time."  
  
"And the girl?"  
  
"Minna? Sweet little thing-"  
  
I snorted.  
  
Nonna smiled. "She lives with her aunt here. They moved in after you left. She has a rough time of it, I think. Still makes time to see me, God bless." She crossed herself and gazed fondly at the portrait of the Virgin Mother on her wall. "So, Anthony, you haven't been up here in.long time. Have you meet any nice Italian girl?"  
  
I squeezed her little hand. "Nah, none yet Nonna." She looked disappointed, but smiled all the same. "Are you sure you're not hungry? Ima sorry I haven't had time to make you something."  
  
"You need to rest Nonna, don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."  
  
She reached one hand up and squeezed my cheek between her thumb and forefinger. "Oh, my Poco Fedele, I worry about you."  
  
I spent the rest of the day at Nonna's, avoiding Matilda and trying to keep Nonna in bed. She's a tough little Italian lady, and I'd trust her with my life, but I was worried as I made my way back to the Lodging House. It was late, and most of the boys were asleep. I was glad; I was safe from any questions and having to repeat my heartache. Boots nodded at me as I walked in, I guess he assumed I was at the tracks. I sighed and lay on my bed without changing. I squeezed the Miraculous Medal that Nonna gave me when I was little, and remembered her words.  
  
"Hold this and remember me, Poco Fedele."  
  
~*~ A/N: I promise I'll explain everyone in the next chapter! This one was getting long and my little brother was begging me to play checkers with him (I won, mwahaha) Anyway, tell me what you think. I'm a little nervous about this story. Nonna's starting to remind me a lot of my own grandmother. 


	3. The Meatball Incident

A/N: Dyslexics rule because they reviewed ^_^  
  
Disclaimer: *does a tap dance*  
  
~*~  
  
I woke up early the next day and left for Nonna's without buying any papes, inwardly scolding myself for thinking longingly of poker and cards. When I got to her apartment, I was met by Miss Know It All herself, who hissed at me that Nonna was asleep before flipping her long, curly black hair over her shoulder and stalking off to the kitchen. Just once I'd like to get that miraculously white apron of hers really good and dirty. In a grouchy mood, I climbed out onto the fire escape to smoke while I waited.  
  
My mind wandered back to eleven years ago. (A/N: Flashback!!) Momma was cooking something but I was whining for her to play with me. Typical. She left the kitchen to come to me and didn't think anything of it. Papa was reading his paper and smiled at us over the top of it. Then the baby woke up, and Momma went in to him. She called for Papa, I think. I didn't notice, I was so used to having all their attention that I resented the baby. They called him Sal, short for Salvatore. Whatever. Anthony Higgins didn't take second place to nobody. I was so angry that I didn't tell them that fog was in the kitchen. I went through the window to the fire escape, pouting. I don't remember how long I was out there, but the baby stopped crying and Momma and Papa went back into the living room. I heard Momma calling me, but I ignored her. So now she wanted to play with me. She told Papa to look for me, and to get the baby. The baby! Everyone worried about the baby! Tears streamed over my little cheeks as I sat on the fire escape. A peculiar smell was coming from the house. It smelled like the time Momma had accidentally set her sleeve on fire. I heard Papa shouting and choking, Momma screamed for me. It sounded like she was crying. I turned around and almost fell off the fire escape in shock.  
  
The fog had eaten our apartment. "Tony!" screamed my mother from the belly of the cloud. I began to cry. What if the fog left with my Momma and Papa inside it? I was afraid to walk inside to get to them. It looked like the inside of the stove was eating the fog; flames licked the walls and charred the carpet. I screamed for my parents, even the baby. No one answered. Someone was crying, and suddenly people were yelling. Hands grabbed me from behind and yanked me farther and farther from the monster that had eaten my parents and brother. Tears clouded my eyes as I called in vain for my mother. Why had I left them alone with the evil monster? "Momma!" I screamed, struggling against my captor. "Papa! Help me!"  
  
No one came. No one explained to me what had happened until much later. No one seemed to care that the fog had eaten my family. No one except Nonna and her husband, our neighbors. He died soon after. When I asked her if the fog had eaten him too, she cried and nicknamed me her 'Poco Fedele', or Little Faithful. Nonna wasn't my biological grandmother, but she insisted that I call her that. Nonna cared for me until I took it upon myself to move into the lodging house so as to not impose on her. Nonna welcomed me back to her apartment whenever I needed food, or a bed to sleep in, or a wise word. Nonna was the only family I had, and I wasn't about to loose her.  
  
Staring out over the rooftops, I exhaled and watched the smoke cloud my vision. Just like the smoke that poured from the mouth of the oven. I threw the cigar off the escape, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.  
  
The window banged open, and I whirled around. Matilda was standing in the apartment with her hands on the hips of her navy blue dress and that perfect apron. At first glance, she looked stern and put out, but then she met my eyes and her expression softened. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, climbing out the window next to me.  
  
"Nuttin" I snapped, looking away. She was the last person I wanted to see. I could almost hear her frown.  
  
"Well sorry, I was just being nice. If-"  
  
"You? Nice? Fat Chance."  
  
She huffed. "Well fine then, be moody. I just came out to tell you that Nonna's awake-"  
  
I swiveled around to face her and glared. "You can't call 'er Nonna, you hear? She's my Nonna, not yours. You call 'er Mrs. Tortella, or Maria, or whatever you want, but not Nonna! You hear me? She's mine!" I shouted.  
  
She looked stung, but for once didn't glare at me. "I-I'm sorry, she said that I could," she whispered.  
  
The anger inside me wouldn't die. "No! I don't care if you wanna to call 'er Queen Victoria, you don't call 'er Nonna! Got it?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
I stomped over to the window and slammed it once I was inside. Let her stay out there.  
  
*  
  
Matilda didn't speak to me for the rest of the day, which I considered a good thing. Nonna seemed to notice the mounting tension, and I think she wanted to say something to me about it, but held her tongue. When I went to leave at the end of the day, she whispered, "Love all, Poco Fedele"  
  
I squeezed her little hand and kissed her cheek. "I love you, Nonna. Take care."  
  
*  
  
The next morning, I bought a few papers to keep the suspicion at bay, not feeling like sharing my story with any of the boys. And if I could finally convince Nonna to sleep, I'd have something to do rather than watch Matilda huff around the house avoiding me. Stupid brat, who did she think she was, taking my Nonna away?  
  
I didn't buy enough papes to take up the time. I caught up with a circulating craps game on the corner of 44th and Market (A/N: Do those streets exist in NY? We can pretend) and busted almost all of what I'd made that day, which wasn't much. Feeling defeated, I shuffled back to Nonna's place.  
  
Matilda answered the door, and avoided my eyes when I came in. "She's still asleep," she said in response to my unasked question. I actually felt bad for being mean to her yesterday.  
  
That was until the meatball incident.  
  
Knowing that Nonna wouldn't mind if I helped myself to some bread for breakfast, I made my way into the kitchen and for the first time in days, voluntarily went into a room that I knew Minna was in. I shook my head. When had I started referring to her as "Minna?" Oh well, it was kind of a pretty name, it suited her..  
  
She was standing over the old metal garbage can, scraping something into it. "What're ya doin?" I asked her, peering over her shoulder.  
  
She sighed and stopped. 'Well, I guess Maria woke up early today, and she got out of bed, see. I came around four and she was in the kitchen trying to make meatballs and pasta for you. I told her to go back to bed but she wouldn't listen, I finally had to get Mr. Jenkins in here to convince her."  
  
"So what's with the trash can?" I asked, an unpleasant suspicion growing rapidly.  
  
She looked desperate. "Well, I didn't know what to do with it, I cant cook and I don't know anyone who can-"  
  
"WHAT'RE YA DOIN?"  
  
She continued loudly "I thought that it being here might be a temptation for her to get up again, she needs to rest so she can beat this-"  
  
"SO YOU MARCH IN HERE AND THROW IT AWAY?"  
  
She whirled around to face me, her face red with anger. "You're not the only one who cares about her! You obviously don't know what's best for her! I'm only trying to help!"  
  
"You're not helping! She spent time on that and you think that just because you're her new little pet that you can just lord over everyone-"  
  
"I AM NOT LORDING!"  
  
"OH YES YOU ARE!"  
  
"OH NO I'M NOT!"  
  
"She loves me better!" I shouted, knowing that I sounded like the pouty five-year-old that was responsible for the death of his family. This was too much to handle. Stupid, stupid girl. "She's not your Nonna, she's mine, she doesn't love you, she loves me! Ya hear?"  
  
"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I know that no one loves me? I'm only trying to help my NEIGHBOR get better, not steal your grandmother! You have a lot of problems, Racetrack Higgins, you know that? Stay out of my life!"  
  
I snorted. "No one loves ya my ass, I don't feel sorry for ya one bit, so shut up and get out!"  
  
"NO!"  
  
A loud noise made us stop our shouting match and turn in the direction of the noise. Mr. Jenkins senior was standing in the doorway, looking like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.  
  
"Wh-what is going on here?"  
  
We both launched into furious explanations of what exactly was going on, making it impossible for him to hear what we were saying. He seemed to get the idea, though, and pulled me over to a chair at the table by the back of my vest. He leaned over to Min-Matilda! and talked to her quietly. I was furious and it must have showed on my face, because Mr. Jenkins looked a little scared when he turned to face me. Matilda stood, scowling, with her arms crossed in the corner. There was red sauce on her immaculate apron, but for once, I didn't care.  
  
Mr. Jenkins quietly explained that Nonna needed rest, and that we both had to learn to get along, and blah, blah, blah. I mumbled responses when they seemed to fit, hating Matilda more and more with each second. As soon as Mr. Jenkins stood up and said, "Ok?" I mumbled "Whatever" and stomped out to the fire escape to wait for Nonna to wake up.  
  
*  
  
Nearly a week went by like this, my selling papes early in the morning and going up to Nonna's via the fire escape in an attempt to avoid Matilda. We were never in the same room for more that two minutes, and had silent but furious scowling contests when we had to be. Nonna looked worriedly from one to the other, and I quietly assured her that nothing was wrong; there was dust in my eye, and not to worry. I don't think she bought it. I didn't expect her to. It felt almost like I was playing a rigged deck, lying to Nonna was never something I was good at. But it was best for her not to worry, and if that meant keeping my 'don't-soak-a-girl' rule, that's how it would have to be.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Today's.. *counts on her fingers*.. three months till I'm 16.. mwahahaha.. But that really has nothing to do with the story. Review because..uh..I said so. 


	4. To the races and back again

A/N: Blahhhhhhh  
  
Disclaimer: Read above ^  
  
~*~  
  
Something was nagging at the back of my mind, like when I forgot to do something, or when I was beating myself up over not betting more on a sure win. For a few days I couldn't put my finger on it, I was begging God to let it smack me in the face. Oh, boy, did it ever.  
  
I snuck off to the tracks that night. I don't know what made me do it, it's an addiction. Anyway, this real snooty mug (A/N: tee hee) decides to park it right in front of me, completely blocking my view. So I'm trying to get his attention when who should show up at my elbow but Miss Hoity-Toity herself? (A/N: See a pattern developing here?) Well she's telling me something but it's kind of a habit of mine to ignore people I dislike, you know? With the crowds being real noisy, I couldn't quite hear her, plus the added tension of the last lap, and, well...let's just say I wasn't paying one bit of attention to her.  
  
Anyway, my horse came in second, and I was too disappointed over losing that day's profit to wonder what the hell she was doing down at the tracks until she grabbed my shoulders and whirled me around. Then I was too shocked by the tears in her eyes to yell at her to go away, but she cried "Haven't you been listening to me? She could die and you're more concerned with gambling? Racetrack! Listen to me!"  
  
My mind was off and spinning. Who was dying? Then it hit me harder than a punch from Knuckles Mc Elroy.  
  
Nonna.  
  
Oh, God.  
  
Matilda grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd, rambling to me over her shoulder as we raced over the streets. "I've been trying to find you for over an hour, when I left her she was calling for you, I didn't know what to do, so I ran to that lodging house of yours asking for you and some of the boys laughed at me, you've got some rude friends, you know that- "  
  
Even in the middle of a crisis, she found time to criticize!  
  
"-But this one with a cowboy hat told me to try the Sheepshead and to brush my hair, but I ignored him...well, I went to the tracks, but I mean, my hair was tangled from running-"  
  
"Get ta da point!" I shouted. My nerves were already stretched beyond their capacity and her panicky chatter wasn't helping.  
  
"Sorry!" she gasped out in front of me, breathing hard from running all over the city. "I'm worried...Aaghh! We've missed the block!"  
  
She swerved down an alley, me just barely keeping on her tail, and clambered haphazardly up the fire escape. When she got to the top she threw open the window and turned to let me in first, tears streaming down her face. "Racetrack, I'm really sorry about before-"  
  
I ignored her, my heart racing. Nonna was lying on her bed, surrounded by Mr. Jenkins, a doctor, and a tall, snobby looking woman I didn't recognize. Paying no attention to them, I rushed to Nonna's bedside. "Nonna, you Ok?"  
  
She wearily raised her eyes to meet mine. "Anthony" she managed to croak out before her eyelids drooped again.  
  
I whirled on the doctor. "What's happenin', she gonna be all right?"  
  
He had a deep, grave voice. He glanced to see that Nonna was asleep, drew me away from the group, and said quietly "She's taken an unexpected turn for the worse. At times like these you can't tell how much time is left." Noticing my horrified face, he said "Could be longer then anyone thinks, she's a strong woman. But it is requisite that she stay in bed, understand?"  
  
'Yeah, yeah" I muttered, afraid. I took it that the meaning of the word 'requisite' was 'keep her there', and felt a small pang through the numbness for shouting at Matilda before. My thoughts jerked back to Nonna. "So what's I gotta do?"  
  
"Bed rest," he said, rummaging through his black bag. "Here's my address, come and find me if anything goes wrong." Then he left.  
  
I rolled my eyes (big help he was) and turned around. The tall woman from before was hissing in Matilda's ear, and she looked ashamed beyond belief. It seemed like they were arguing and Matilda was losing. And I thought she was impossible.  
  
I'd just turned me attention back to Nonna when a loud bang made me jump. "Lord, what d' hell ya think ya doin'? I asked, looking around at the people crammed into the room. Mr. Jenkins looked a little lost, while the lady was scowling at the window Matilda had just gone out. "I'd better be going, I've got company coming later," she said to Mr. Jenkins. "Goodbye Raymond, send her home when she can mind her mouth." And with that, she swept dramatically from the room.  
  
I stared. Who the hell was that? Must be Matilda's aunt.  
  
After a while, Mr. Jacobs started murmuring to himself, so I decided to leave him at it. There was a cigar in my pocket so I went out to the fire escape. There was a funny sound coming from the steps, kind of like someone stepping on a cat. I was leaning over the edge looking for a cat when I caught sight of black curls against the metal. Matilda. Damn, I forgot she was out here.  
  
I felt bad for being mean to her, but I wasn't about to go apologize, so I went down and sat on the step next to her, smoking. She turned halfway towards me, then looked away.  
  
It was a while before either of us spoke. Finally she said, "You hate me, don't you."  
  
'You bet' I thought, but said "Nah" because she was crying.  
  
She sniffed. "I'm sorry for throwing the food away, I was worried about her and all alone and I didn't know what to do, I just-"  
  
"Why didn't ya get yer aunt?" I interrupted, still not looking at her.  
  
She sighed. "Because I knew she wouldn't care. I'm just another mouth to feed to her, ever since my parents...well...I couldn't have stayed with them."  
  
I decided not to ask. What did I care, anyway? She was looking at me expectantly. Shit, it was my turn.  
  
"I'm...sorry too." I said heavily. "Thanks for gettin me tonight, yeah. Thanks."  
  
She looked satisfied. I exhaled smoke, and we sat there for a long time in silence. Then she kinda half turned towards me, and held out her hand. "Truce?" she asked hopefully, looking very serious behind her deep blue eyes. Something in her expression caught me off balance; there was something I didn't recognize in the way she looked at me. It was nice, though. I spit in my hand and took hers, finally tearing my eyes away.  
  
For a few seconds she looked at me funny, like she'd swallowed something rotten. Then she burst out laughing.  
  
I stared. She was crazy, this one.  
  
She continued to laugh as she climbed through the window, then turned and smiled at me. Despite the fact that Nonna was sicker, my heart felt lighter. Like soda on a hot day. I grinned. Crazy, crazy girl.  
  
*  
  
Nonna wavered in and out of sleep at strange times, making it impossible for me to time my day around seeing her. The boys all seemed curious about where I went every day, but none asked. They did ask about the crazy girl that ran in here screaming my name. I laughed when I heard that. "Yeah, she's crazy, aright." I told them, rubbing my face dry with a towel. (A/N: He gave Skittery a buck)  
  
Things were easier back at Nonna's. It was kind of a relief not having to avoid Matilda and all. She smiled at me when I came in, and I realized suddenly how long it had been since I'd used the door. "She's not awake yet," said Minna when I walked in. My thoughts froze. Minna? Matilda. Matilda. Matilda.  
  
"She's been sleeping all morning," she continued, closing the door behind me. "I didn't want to wake her...here, let me take those." She took the papers from my wet hands as I took off my hat.  
  
"Cold, for April" I commented, peering out the window into the rain. She didn't answer. I turned around, half expecting her to scold me for something, but she was gone, andato, vanished.  
  
A strangled gasp came from Nonna's room. Suddenly her curls swung out of the doorway, framing a face that was anxious and worried, like.  
  
"Racetrack" she said desperately, "Come here now!"  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: I'm so evil. Short chappie compared to others, I took a brave stab at Race's accent, which I think was inconsistent. I imagine everyone with a Philly accent, either that or sounding like Rivers Cuomo. Whatever, just review. ^_^ (oh and 'andato' is Italian for 'gone') lalalala *hums to herself* No, I'm not insane... Aghh! another note-Knuckles Mc Elroy, what's with him? He just kind of popped up. I was gonna do Spot, but, I'm a little too obsessed. So to prove my sanity...Knuckles got his cameo. 


	5. Ashes to Ashes

A/N: This chappie reminds me of the song 'Gravedigger' by Dave Matthews. Listen to it while you're reading, you'll see what I mean.  
  
Disclaimer: I thought we'd established this by now?  
  
~*~  
  
Where did all the air go, all of a sudden? Looking at her anxious like that made my heart stop. My feet refused to move. My mind refused to think. Papers tumbled from my shaking fingers like change at a fixed game. She ran towards me (I wondered how she could move, when the world had obviously stopped) and grabbed my hand, pulling me into Nonna's bedroom. I didn't know what was wrong, but I didn't want to see. She was strong, though. Shit, oh Nonna...  
  
Her eyes were barley open, and she looked in pain, and I couldn't stand it. Nonna had always been so strong. Minna gripped my hand tight; I was losing feeling in my fingers. Not that that mattered.  
  
"Nonna?" I choked out, kneeling down at her bedside. She turned her wrinkled face towards me and managed a smile. "Anthony" she said in a small voice. Then she sighed and looked at the ceiling, murmuring in Italian, so fast that my inexperienced ears couldn't translate. I glanced at Minna worriedly, she was crying silently. Swallowing hard, I looked back at my grandmother.  
  
I was totally in the dark. Nonna had been sick before, right? She'd rambled in Italian when she thought I needed divine intervention, when she was worried about me. I couldn't make out what she was saying now, though. Something about the saints. Nonna was big on saints. She'd dragged me off to St. Stephens (A/N: We're pretending again) every Sunday since I was five until I stopped living with her. I kicked myself mentally for not visiting more often. She couldn't go now, she just couldn't...  
  
Her fluent stream of Italian prayer stopped along with my heart. I looked anxiously into her careworn face, begging God to let her stay. She raised her shaking hand to Minna's, which was still gripping mine, resting on the bed. She stroked the fair skin, murmuring in Italian again, smiling at the two of us. Minna blushed slightly through her tears, but I didn't understand why. Nonna squeezed her hand against mine, and whispered, "Take care"  
  
Then she lifted the familiar hand to my cheek and stroked it, a smile alight in her old brown eyes. "Anthony" she whispered, "How I love you." Her trembling fingers found the silver chain around my neck, and squeezed the medal it supported. "Hold this and remember me, Poco Fedele," she said quietly, looking at the two of us.  
  
A small smile played across her lips, and she sighed, closing her eyes. I looked at her expectantly. She was going to open her eyes, stand up, try to get us to eat. She was going to gasp at the 'untidy state' of the apartment and start cleaning. She was going to straighten the front of my vest and try to comb my hair. She was going to lecture me on gambling, swearing, and smoking. She was going to whisper words of encouragement in Italian. She was going to wake up.  
  
A gasp-like sob from Minna made me look away from Nonna. She was kneeling next to me, with her head resting on the white coverlet near Nonna's still hand. Her curls were on her face, in her red eyes, but she didn't lift a hand to brush them aside. "Wh-what happened?" I asked, not wanting to hear an answer, but needing more than anything to know.  
  
"Racetrack' she whispered, and suddenly I knew. I rubbed my hand over my mouth, a deadweight forming in the back of my throat. I swallowed again, my heart aching horribly, I felt old and worn out. Older than I've ever felt in my life. So that was all she got, eh? No words of wisdom or miraculous visions. Then it hit me like a smack from Nonna's wooden spoon. She died like her life had been, simple and loving. Her last words weren't to the angels, but to us, 'pilgrims' as she called the living souls. 'Remember me, Poco Fedele.' Always worried about me. Tears swam over my face before I could stop them. I stood up and walked over to the window, rain washing over my image. The world was crying for Nonna.  
  
I leaned my head against the cool pane of glass. Minna was crying quietly into the bedspread behind me. The world was deathly silent. I felt a rush of anger towards her for disturbing Nonna's peace, but then realized it wasn't her fault. I composed myself the best I could and walked over to the bed, putting my hand on Minna's shoulder as I passed. It made her cry harder, but she squeezed my hand in her own. Like Nonna had done. Tears filled my eyes and my knees gave way. I was kneeling beside her, hiding my eyes in the sheets. Her arms slipped around me and she cried into my shaking shoulders.  
  
*  
  
I don't know how long we were there, hours passed like minutes, I lost track of time completely. My mind was one overweighed blur. I vaguely remember Mr. Jacobs finding us and moving us away from her body. Then I'm not sure where we went, but I somehow wound up on the fire escape in the rain. Wet. Very wet. And cold, colder than I've ever been in my life. A thousand unanswered questions echoed in my head, ringing over and over and over like the iron clang of church bells...  
  
*  
  
There are some things in life that will haunt you forever. The smell of my burning house was one of them. The sound of the choir as they rolled Nonna's coffin up the aisle of the St. Stephens gave me chills. So many faces framed in black. Wet, wet faces. The words they called out were "you are mine" as the songs seeped inside my head. Nonna was mine. Not theirs. Not whosever wanted to take her. The priest spoke of legions of angels welcoming us, he didn't understand that Nonna brought the angels. The windows were open, high above the heads of the mourners. A cold breeze blew around hollowly in the inside of the old church. There was no warmth left. Cold bells tolled high up in the sky.  
  
*  
  
Old, faded headstones, names long forgotten. This was what awaited Nonna. They were going to leave her in the ground, too. Tall iron spikes framed the pale, gray graveyard. The city of the dead. Rain poured unmercifully on the soggy grass. Tall, gothic angels peered at us through expressionless, cold stone eyes as we followed the coffin. The priest was talking, but I couldn't hear him. I only knew that I was alone. Tears mixed with the rain, falling to the ground and swirling in with the mud. Tears of mud.  
  
My vision blurred. Black shapes shifted in and out of the clouds. The coffin slid under the Earth. Wet flowers followed, never knowing that they would be buried. I guess we all will be. One day I'd lie silently under the dirt. Ring around the rosy, pockets full of posies, ashes to ashes, we all fall down. Some things haunt you forever.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Really short, depressing chapter - don't worry, Race will recover ( anywayz, I hope his thoughts on the funeral made sense, they're all kind of jumbled for the mood. One chapter left! *Sniff* my little ficcy's all growed up!! 


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